


insomnia week 2020

by mosscoveredking



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Healthy Relationships, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships, Unreliable Narrator, fgod error but it's subtle, kind of suggestive ig?, prompt list, shattered dream and it's obvious
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24477727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosscoveredking/pseuds/mosscoveredking
Summary: errordream week hosted by errorxdream.tumblr.com!!
Relationships: Error/Dream, Insomnia - Relationship
Comments: 18
Kudos: 94





	1. surprise

**Author's Note:**

> i probably won't write something for each day, but what i do come up with will go here. 
> 
> 1 - surprise  
> 2 - light  
> 3 - meeting  
> 4 - gift  
> 5 - fear  
> 6 - trust  
> 7 - mistake

Error knew he was in love. It was pitiful how simply looking at Dream made emotion swell up in his chest and choke him out, revolting how the thought of the guardian alone was enough to manipulate him. He hated himself for it, hated the disgusting relish that had curled up in his chest and bred, loathed the way Dream could convince him everything was okay with nothing but a lingering gaze. The weakness, the detestable vulnerability, they were worth it to see Dream’s facade shatter into fragments of stardust and ice. In those little moments without obligations or personas, Error saw someone truly, deeply dangerous. That was the Dream he fell in love with.

Dream taught him slowly that not every touch means punishment, that hands can grace you without spreading fractures, that fingers can trail your body without digging in and drawing blood. Error learned what it is to behold words without venom. He learned what gentle meant.

There was that Dream, infinitely forbearing and spring-breeze benign, who gave himself to the world and asked for nothing in return. Then there was the Dream that Error knew and liked better, the inevitable force of nature nothing could stop, no breaks, no vetoes, no power checks, no escape. If he truly wanted something, he would take it. Apathy is a powerful thing. 

It shouldn’t have come as any surprise that Dream wouldn’t restrict himself to one person, really. 

It started off as small things - stray pencils on his desk that looked far too colorful to belong to him, a black stain on his tunic, more time spent at others’ houses. Error didn’t care about any of these - why should he? Far be it from him to pick Dream’s company. 

That ancient, golden scarf enshrouded the fresh tangerine bruises on his neck, little trophies to be admired in private. A few times, Dream dropped into the anti-void with the stench of paint clinging to his body, too happy to be sober, to crawl up into Error’s lap and tell him he was loved. Some days when life brings Error crashing at the palace and clinging to his partner, he could find Dream’s towel to be stained with black tar and faint streaks of pale purple magic. 

He never said anything. He wasn’t dependent, he wasn’t _attached_. Just because there was something unnamed, tangible, and undeniable between him and Dream didn’t mean he would suddenly get prissy, or stars forbid protective. 

That wouldn’t stop him from lying awake, the smell of magic still thick in the air and a warmth cuddled against his side, wondering why he wasn’t enough.


	2. light [fgod]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> t/cws in end notes
> 
> not really my best but honestly i'm proud that i wrote two days in a row at all heh. oh also i know basically nothing about fgod (which, if you know less than me, stands for forced god of destruction and is an alternate take on error where gods of the multiverse force him to destroy). and i mean it's not even that big a part of the plot like,, basically doesn't even matter sdfghjkjhgf

Fragile was the last word to come to mind when looking at the destroyer of all creation. Fractures layered his bones, binding them stronger each time they were mended. A myriad of scars wove his body, decorating him as a tapestry of suffering. Yet he still stood and fought and destroyed, weaving death from his fingers in the form of azure strings. 

Looking at him now, Dream could only see a dying animal, shriveled up into himself like that would stave off oblivion. The guardian of optimism held the teacup fragile soul in his hands, gently grazing the surface and threading healing magic into it. It was ash gray, calloused over in spots with broken glass cracks spiderwebbing through it. It wasn’t even soul shaped, really, only a fragment. 

Error was making muted sounds soaked in frantic desperation, fingers digging into his forearms, whimpers and sobs strangled in his throat. Through the blinding white pain, he wished desperately Dream was hushing him, cooing softly like he always did while he healed a new break or the aftermath of a night terror. 

Dream was staring wide-eyed at the soul breaking apart in his hands. It leaked pure mana onto his bare fingers, the breaks swelling and contracting with the pulse of the ichor’s ebb and flow. The fluid was bright, blinding, even, blurring in Dream’s vision and throwing light onto their bodies. He sobbed, choked and ugly, trying to press the thick liquid back into the soul.

Glitches tore at Error, eating up his whimpers and drowning him. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it _hurt_ and Dream didn’t know how to fix it, couldn’t, hands slipping and trying not to just clamp down as his lover writhed beneath him. He sobbed again and hot tears mixed with the ichor. 

He felt the shreds of soul in his hand, once too stiff and rough, give beneath his fingers and leak between his phalanges. Drops of luminescence began to splatter the floor, exponential, until it was waterfalling down and Dream was holding much, much too little. 

He sobbed again, knees skidding in the slick, and hunched into himself. Error pulled back as he did so, sobbing and begging with blood catching in his throat as his body began to dissolve. He cried something that sounded an awful lot like _“don’t touch me,”_ eyes lost and mind drowning in panic. He begged until his throat couldn’t anymore, choking on his own dust.

Dream could feel his magic lashing as he broke down, aching to embrace his beloved one last time,only able to watch him disintegrate and choke. 

And then he was alone, alone with the sunlight-hot fluid staining his hands and knees, alone with the bloodied clumps of thick dust, alone in a world breaking apart at the seams and crumbling around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> t/cws: major character death, mention of broken bones, blood, hopeless situation


	3. meeting [shattered]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> t/cw for dream being a Huge Creep and not okay (more detailed in end notes)

“What are you,” you hiss, features scrunched up in a teary-eyed snarl. Fear emanates from your very core. It’s piquant, inviting, sapid in a way that pulls at me with an inescapable grasp.

I smile more genuinely than I have in years. “Not sure what you want me to say to that.”

Your mismatched eyelights flick over and around me, terror so pungent it looks like hatred, but I know better. I roll my tendrils, flexing new magic, and feel my grin hike into a smirk. “Do you not like it?”

I only have to lean forward for you, infamous and immortal destroyer of worlds, to step back. What would you do if I truly pressed, my cornered little lamb? “I like it.” My voice is laced with true, deep-seated contentment.

“What did you do?”

Such an ugly expression you wear, teeth bared and brows knitted. Your speech is tight in your throat, broken with glitches and wavering in pitch like you’re about to break down. Good, _good,_ you _should_ be afraid. 

My eyes - eye, now - softens even as my grin tightens and shoulders lean back. “Error, dearest. Don’t give me that look.”

 _“What did you do?”_

You’re paralyzed now, staring at me with a strong, unmerited sense of betrayal. Your strings, wrapped tightly around your tense fingers, are acting up again and spilling unchecked from behind your eyes. They hang slack and useless - you couldn’t fight right now if you tried, even if you wanted to, needed to, and I know it. How nice it is to be on this end of it. You’re a statue. I grace the back of my hand against your cheek and watch the glitches run across your face like riled insects. 

I press a kiss to your teeth, soft and chaste. These new tendrils ache for you, yearn to know your body as thoroughly as I do - _in time,_ I hush them, _in time._ I lean in closer, almost tucking my face into the crook of your neck, only barely keeping from touching. A drop of caliginosity falls onto your neck and you shudder. I breathe in your utterly unique scent of faint burnt plastic and night air that puts static in my maximallia. It’s intoxicating. Another brief kiss planted on your neck, normally hidden in that royal blue scarf yet so exposed at this angle, and I answer quietly. 

“I can show you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> error feels/is powerless in this situation, dream has unknown intentions but doesn't sound like consent matters to him, error is kissed a couple times without any form of consent
> 
> hee i had fun with this one!! i hope to write more shattered dream someday. everything about error's scent are headcanons taken directly from skal and old desert from the rarepair server! <3


	4. gift [fgod]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is as close to fluff as it gets guys. believe me, i tried! in fact, i wrangled this little thing at every turn to keep it from evolving into more sad times. consider this a gift, if you will
> 
> cws in end notes

Error cuddled closer into the light gray hoodie, long limbs wrapped around his knees and chest. He hovered just above sleep, eyes closed and body relaxed, enveloped in his boyfriend’s scent. The hoodie was down feather soft and smelled like clovers, honeysuckle blooms, fresh spring air, and deep forest soil. It was a gift from Dream, completely oversized on the guardian and a little small on the glitch. That was okay. The only clothes that ever fit him were the ones he made himself, and he’d come to accept that. He didn’t care how it looked - it was velvety and smelled like his lover, his protector, the best thing to ever happen to him. He really couldn’t be happier.

Dream was away at the market in search of peppermint extract and cocoa powder, but Error knew he’d be back soon. It’s taken years for him to get to that point, a place where he can think with full confidence that Dream will return home from each errand instead of working himself into an anxiety attack about it. He smiles faintly in that sleepy way and nuzzles into the side of the hood, proud of himself.

He’s far from perfect. There are still days and weeks ruled by breakdowns, claws of illness still hovering above his shredded soul poised to strike, but the better days are steadily increasing and help is always there when he needs it, regardless of whether or not he can call out for it.

Of course, he wonders just _when_ that help is going to vanish and force him, bare and broken, back into that godawful void with those malignant voices, alone again save for the constant abuse from hateful, ignorant gods and h--

Stop that. Stop it.

You’re okay. You’re doing well, so well, and I’m proud of you every day - yes, even those days. I promise you, I _promise you,_ I am going to be here. Breathe, love-- yes, yes I know, just trust me and follow along okay? Okay, one…

Error breathed in deeply, filling his chest all the way to his false gut, and held it for four seconds, Dream’s voice counting softly in his head. Then he exhaled just as slow, rested for three seconds, and repeated the process until his head was clear.

See? Look at you go, you’re--

The front door clicked, opened, and shut. Error smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cws: error almost freaks out about being abandoned, mention of past verbal abuse


	5. fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hc where error can mimic any sound or voice and uses this ability to self-sooth, thank you copper and rarepair server

Phosphenes curled in wait behind his eyelids, abstract turquoise swirls and ugly lime yellow flashes poised to violate his mind’s eye. The darkness is too full, too rich, too _complicated_ , but there’s nothing to see in the white, so he keeps his eyes wide open. It’s pure and perfect and looks like home--

Home, with daffodils lining the porch and hanging herb gardens. Home, with a gentle hearth nestled in the living room and fleece blankets draped over the loveseat soft enough to drain out the awful in anything. Home, with a plush bed and thick comforter and hands he loved to touch, home with the smells of biscuits and pancakes and herbal tea, home with his lover’s voice calling softly. Calling his name, maybe, or whispering reassurances so soft and close and warm it could be coming from his own head. 

It was a home made entirely in hypotheticals, built on a foundation of hope with walls of reverie and roof of utter desperation. 

“What’s bothering you, love?” Dream’s melodic voice soothed, tone perfect, exact, wrapping around to hold him.

Error remained quiet and rubbed his upper arm softly. He couldn’t force his throat to switch away from that conciliatory tone he loved and needed so desperately, couldn’t possibly bring himself down to the lower register he learned to abhor.

“That’s okay,” Dream continued softly, all reassurance and infinite patience. “You can stay quiet if you need, I understand. I’ll be right here when you’re able to speak. I promise.”


End file.
